


Stars Are Never Sleeping

by Posse Magnet (rhink_is_my_kink)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Animated GIFs, Bathroom Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam Winchester, Car Sex, Choking, Come Eating, Comeplay, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dean's Got Jokes, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, EXPLICIT GIFS, Face-Fucking, Felching, Hand Jobs, Inspired by GIFs, Jealous Sam Winchester, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mild Feminization, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Not Beta Read, Orgasm Delay, PORN gifs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Quiet Sex, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sad Dean Winchester, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Showing Off, Smut, Snowballing, Spit As Lube, Teasing, Top Dean Winchester, Underage - Freeform, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform, a little fluff, belly bulge, gagging, no betas we die like men, nsfw gifs, voyeuristic Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-28 17:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20782229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhink_is_my_kink/pseuds/Posse%20Magnet
Summary: Boy, those Winchester boys sure can get it on just about anywhere.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Motel rooms are an odd, but comforting second home to the wandering Winchester boys. Even when they're trying to fuck with John sleeping the the other bed. AKA: literally nothing can shut up a Winchester.

The Winchesters has seen countless motel rooms. An endless parade of  them , all different, but still the same. You can dress up a hellhole with cutesy flamingos, heart-shaped pillows,  smiling suns,  or  rootin ’- tootin \- cowpoke, but take away the forced ambiance, at their core, every motel room Dean had ever seen was exactly the same as all the others. Too-stiff sheets that smell overwhelmingly of bleach, but still manage to be stained to kingdom come. Everything is wetter than it should be, so it all smells vaguely of mildew. Everything is spotted with grime, stained with every conceivable bodily fluid, and so old it’s about a week away from turning into dust. 

Nevertheless,  they were an odd, but comforting second home to the wandering Winchester boys. Once Dean was old enough to hold his own with a firearm--around  his eighth birthday \--John would leave them alone in these rooms; counting on his eldest son’s tenacity, instincts, and strong bond with Sam to keep both boys safe. 

After the first time teenage Dean got his dick into Sam, both boys were insatiable in the way all adolescent boys are. 

Sam  i s the master of winding Dean up. Rubbing their thighs together in diner booths; pressing his ass against Dean’s crotch while they were unloading the car for John; jerking off in the shower, moans and wet slapping sounds that are borne into the room alongside the shower steam that pours through the wide-open bathroom door while John runs next door to the motel office for coffee. Sam has a wicked voyeuristic streak that Dean guiltily worries will end up getting  him  killed if their father ever catches them.

Quite often they find themselves stuck in a motel room--with no plausible way  to sneak  out  past John  or a too bright parking lot--sharing one queen bed, while John snores away in another. Nothing separating them but a space the width of a cheap, water-warped nightstand. Sam slips in next to Dean, and presses his naked body against his older brother. He’s already  bre a thy, hard, a nd leaking. He’s been teasing Dean all day long, but at night he begs Dean to fuck him. To fucking  _ ruin  _ him. His big brother always gives in eventually. Dean always tastes of whiskey when he pushes his tongue into Sam’s mouth. He always smells of gun oil and drug store aftershave when he whispers, “Shh, Sammy. Hush and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Dean,” he plead s, whisper quiet in the dark . 

He winds his fingers into Sam’s hair and pulls his brother’s head back, and bites at Sam’s neck, using his strong, stubbly jaw to push Sam’s mouth closed. His  teeth nip at Sam’s earlobe when he hisses, “Sammy, hush. Don’t wake up dad and I’ll give you a present. I’ll fuck you  real _ good _ , baby. Just...  _ shh _ .”

John is sleeping deeply, and snoring like a comatose yeti in the next bed, but he’s a hunter, and can spring from  a dead  sleep to high alert in the time it takes for him to open his eyes. Sam breathes the word  _ please  _ into the spot where Dean’s shoulder and neck meet, and his desperation slides hot and salty out of his cock when he humps against Dean’s hip. It makes Dean shudder; Sam begging  _ always  _ makes him shudder. He rolls Sam over onto his stomach, putting his weight against the smaller boy, pinning him to the bed from shoulder to calf, his forearm braced against Sam’s neck, a silent confirmation of Dean’s  _ only  _ requirement: s _ ilence _ . 

Satisfied when Sam nods his head against the pillow, Dean slips under the thin motel sheet, and shimmies down to cup the globes of Sam’s ass and pull them apart with his thumbs. He glares up at Sam one more time, even though his brother can’t see him in the dark, and through the sheet, with his face pressed into the motel pillow. He knows Sam can’t see him, but he also knows Sam can  _ feel  _ him with his little brother sixth-sense. Sam wiggles his ass a little to  motivate  Dean  and get him  moving again , only to jump when Dean swipes his tongue over his crack. 

He circles Sam’s tight hole with the calloused pad of his thumb. His brother is already squirming against the mattress. He wants Dean inside of him. He wants more friction on his cock. He wants to be somewhere he can scream his brother’s name when he comes. He  wants to be greedy and have it  _ all _ . 

Blissfully, Dean  _ gives  _ him more when he slides his spit-slick thumbs into Sam’s ass. He traces around the ring of muscle, pulling his thumbs apart to fire a wad of spit between them into Sam, which makes his toes curl and thighs shudder. Then one thumb withdraws, and is replaced by two thick fingers.

Dean can feel Sam’s groan, it vibrates through the mattress, and around Dean’s fingers, deep in Sam’s guts. It must be smothered by the pillow though, because all Dean hears is John snoring and grinding his teeth. 

Scissoring his fingers opens Sam for him faster, and by the time Dean is satisfied with his work, Sam’s body shines with sweat, and his pillow is damp with tears. Dean slides back up Sam’s body and the younger boy begins pleading in hushed tones.

“Dean,” he whispers with a sob, “I can’t. I can’t... I can’t be quiet. Please.” His brother can only grin at his quiet pleas, because Sam is  desperately  rubbing Dean’s thick cock between his narrow little  twink ass cheeks. 

“You  can ,” Dean hisses, “And you  will . You wanted this.  You  _ begged  _ me for this.  Now, hush.”

Sam starts whining a complaint until Dean’s heavy chest pushes him into the mattress,  pressing  the air out of him. He slips an arm around Sam’s bony chest to squeeze him tight and hold him in place. He uses his other hand to feed his cock into Sam’s tight ass. It goes slowly, and by the time Dean bottoms out, Sam’s entire body shakes with effort. 

“I can’t do it, Dean,” Sam whisper-cries at Dean, “I can’t...  I was wrong.  I’m  gonna make noise. I’m  gonna wake him up. Please. Let’s go somewhere else.” 

Dean’s dick throbs, and blurts  precome hot and nasty into his brother’s guts. “Beg me like a pretty little bitch, baby,” he growls into Sam’s ear, rocking his hips into Sam so the skinny boy feels every inch  of  Dean that’s packed into his thin body. “Fuck, Sammy. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He draws slowly out of Sam, and snaps his hips forward, slamming back into him. “I’m  gonna wreck this cunt... fucking... wreck... it,” he gr owls  each word out right into the shell of Sam’s ear. 

Sam really  _ is  _ afraid he’ll be the one to make the noise that interrupts John’s grizzly-like snore. He really  _ is  _ scared John will gut both of them if he catches his boys like this. But surrounded by Dean, filled up with Dean, he can do anything his big brother asks of him. Plus, it’s fucking hot when Dean talks to him like this, and treats him like his dirty little slut. And, fucked up as it is, Sam really  _ is  _ a voyeur, and even with the threat of imminent  mortal  danger snoring only 5 feet away from them, the thought of being caught makes him so... fucking...  _ wet _ .

He squirms in Dean’s tight grip, and opens his mouth to say Dean’s name again, but Dean’s free hand  slaps over it to keep  it s ilent . He pushes Sam’s head back, snug against his shoulder. His dick punches the air out of Sam, and makes the cheap motel bed squeak a little. The boy’s eyes occasionally stray over to the bulky shadow of their father in the next bed. John continues to snore without stirring. Dean quietly thanks any deity who’s got their ears on that he was able to hustle a little extra cash on the sly tonight to buy the fifth of Wild Turkey John polished off before bed.

“Shit, baby,” Dean’s huffed whisper teases, “You ’re gonna wake  him up."

Sam is just enough of a little brother that he tries to point out that  _ Dean’s _ the one who’s making the bed squeak, but the head of Dean’s dick slides over his prostate, and Sam’s distracted when his vision whites out.

“Yeah, Sammy. That’s my good little cock slut.” Dean gasps when Sam’s hole flexes, squeezing his dick appreciatively. Dean’s weeping  precome inside of him, and his hole is getting looser and  wetter  by the second. Dean fucks him slow, but hard, slapping his balls against Sam’s taint with every forward snap of his hips. Each thrust pulls a  soft, but  audible  _ eek  _ out of the shitty mattress.

Sam is grateful for Dean’s big hand over his mouth, because it’s keeping him quiet, but every huff that Dean pushes out of him with his dick seems as loud as a freight train  to  Sam’s ears. Dean’s pushing him down into the stinking mattress though, so he’s got some friction on his cock and it’s all too easy to focus on the delicious drag over the sensitive underside. In fact, he starts humping the mattress, which helps Dean pull out farther, and push in deeper. 

Dean curses a little too loud when Sam starts humping the mattress, and pushing back into him, and John stirs in his sleep, rolling over with a grunt and garbled sleep nonsense. Dean doesn’t miss a beat though, and rolls to his side,  m aking Sam  the little spoon . The thought of John catching them is too much for Sam’s dirty little voyeuristic heart and he starts pumping come all over the stained sheets. Dean’s dick doesn't leave Sam’s asshole when they roll, so he feels the bruising clench around his prick when Sam starts to come. He muzzles his little brother the most effective way he can at the moment: he shoves three fingers into Sam’s mouth and presses down on his tongue, so the only noises Sam can make are soft, gurgling sighs as he comes apart on Dean’s cock. 

Even with the threat of John waking up and catching Dean with his dick in Sam’s underage guts, Dean never stops fucking Sam. Once John settles and starts snoring again, he pulls one of Sam’s trembling colt legs up to his chest so  Dean  can get his prick even farther  inside of him . 

Sam is sobbing and overstimulated, but Dean pulls his wet fingers out of Sam’s mouth to stroke his dick back to attention. And even though Sam has  _ just  _ finished blowing his load, he’s already half hard. Dean had to concede that the kid’s refractory period was  downright fucking  enviable. “ Mmm . You’re such a good little slut for me, baby,” Dean hums reverently. “You’re hard for me again. Be quiet, slutty boy, or I’ll wake him up myself. I might just tempt fate if it means I get to die with my cock in your ass.”

Sam snuffles, and gives a full body shudder, then pulls his other leg up to his chest, so Dean can stroke his cock where it ’s squeezed  between his thighs, and have access to his ass without any impediments. He can feel Dean grin against his shoulder before he says, “There’s  my good little slut. Such a fucking good boy for me. Gonna fill you up, baby. Cream you up real good. Then I think I’ll eat it out of you. See if you can stay quiet while I clean your  messy  pussy up.”

Sam makes a  hiccupy kind of noise, and spills come into Dean’s tight fist. Once he’s done shuddering through this orgasm, Dean brings his hand to Sam’s mouth, so Sam can  lick it clean for him. 

It doesn’t take very much of Sam licking and sucking on his fingers like a good little cock slut, for Dean’s rhythm to faulter. A few more stuttered pushes, and Sam feels Dean’s dick jerk inside of him, filling him with warmth that spreads behind his belly button. Dean exhales shakily, and gives a few more squelchy, sloppy thrusts before gently pulling his softening dick out of Sam, then rolling Sam back onto his stomach ( _ and the wet spot _ _ — _ _ thanks _ _ ,  _ thinks Sam). 

Dean pushes four fingers into his hole with no ceremony whatsoever, and it feels so good Sam has to gather both thin bed pillows to his face to disguise his groan. Dean pulls at his puffy rim, spilling come out of him, only to push it back in with his thumb. Dean thinks it would be a piece of cake to get his meaty fist inside of Sam, to really punch fuck him until he’s strung out, and screaming Dean’s name. He would most  _ definitely  _ scream though, so Dean reluctantly tables the idea. For now. He settles, instead, for sticking his tongue inside of Sam’s stretched-out asshole. He hums fondly at the way his come tastes when he eats it out of his little brother’s ass.

He gently palms Sam’s little cheeks, and slaps them together, making the sparse globes jiggle from the impact. He spreads them open again and blows gently over Sam’s hole.  Sam  bears down, until more of Dean’s come slides out of him, a hot gush that rolls down his crack towards his taint, until Dean c atches it  with his talented tongue. He pushes a single finger into Sam, and swirls it around, removes it, and sucks at it until it’s clean. He makes obscene slurping noises until he pulls his clean finger out of his mouth with a wet pop, and repeats over and over until Sam is hard again, and squeaky clean on the inside. 

Sam is ready to nominate Dean for sainthood when he rolls Sam over and wraps his plump lips around Sam’s dick. Sam is so sensitive at this point, that it only takes a few a few pushes into  his brother ’s tight throat for him to squeeze the last few drops of come left in his dick into Dean’s talented fucking mouth. 

Sam is dead tired, and he slips off into sleep, even before  Dean is done milking the last bit of  boy cream out of his cock . Dean checks on him, then goes to the bathroom to take a leak, and grab a washcloth and a towel. Dean flicks the light on in the bathroom so he doesn’t break his fucking neck, and finally John stirs from his slumber, blinking at the shaft of light that spills from the crack in the door, and casts the room in strange shadows. 

“ ’ S the matter, Dean?” He asks gruffly when Dean opens the door. Fear settle s like molten lead in the pit of his belly, but John seems unaware of anything that’s happened in the last few hours. He doesn’t even seem to notice Dean isn’t wearing anything, thanks to the towel Dean's holding in front of himself. 

“Nothing, dad,” he murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

John can’t make out Dean, but he sees the bleach-white of the motel towel. “ ’ Uss the towel for?” 

Dean holds it up and gestures to Sam, and huffs a laugh, “Teenage boys.”

John nods, “Yeah. Been there.” And his head hits the pillow, the sounds of snoring resumes a beat later, and Dean finally unclenches and sits on the bed. He uses the towel to cover the wet spot on the mattress, and rolls Sam over onto it so he can use the wet washcloth to gently clean Sam’s tender hole. 

Sam stirs, “What happened?” he mumbles.

“Nothing. Dad woke up when I got up to piss. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“ Whu’d he say?” Sam worries at every problem like a dog with a bone. Dean knows he won’t go back to sleep until  his big brother i s lying next to him.

“He wanted to know if everything was okay , and why I had a towel.”

Sam’s shaggy head lifts a little, “Wha t’ d you say?”

Dean chuckles, “I told him you were dreaming of some piece of ass from the TV and you had a wet dream.” He pauses, then adds with a snicker, “Slut.”

Sam elbows Dean in the ribs with a groan. “Jerk,” he mumbles.

Dean kisses his forehead and breathes the word  _ bitch  _ quietly into Sam’s shaggy hair, but Sam’s already fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Impala is such a big part of the Winchester brother's lives. And Impala sex is one of their favorite perks. AKA: Dean's always in the driver's seat. I don't make the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags are updated.

The Winchester brothers are well accustomed to spending long days and nights on the road. The Impala’s smell of sweat and gunpowder was home to Sam and Dean even before Sam was old enough to talk. 

Her interior was full of memories, and milestones. Moments time had indelibly sewn into her leather and steel. Moments that would stay there in the soul of that big black beast, even after she was rebuilt from the ground up, first by John and Bobby, and again by Dean. 

Sam had said his first word in the backseat, calling for his brother at seven months of age. Dean’s on his way into some convenience store in nowhere Alabama to pay for some gas for John, and a tearful Sam had screamed for Dean so loud the older boy had dropped the gas money--eight dollars in quarters--in the parking lot in his hurry to comfort his brother. John was only able to find sixteen of the errant quarters, which earned Dean a smack across the mouth for wasting money. Dean wept quietly in the backseat for nearly an hour afterwards, while clutching his giggling baby brother to his chest. 

Dean lost his first tooth in her front seat one freezing night in northern Minnesota. John wasn’t able to afford a motel room with the twenty-two bucks he had left in his pocket, so he parked the Impala on the side of some remote back road, and made a nest of blankets for the boys in the front seat, while he slept stretched out in the back, with nothing for warmth but the clothes on his back; lips gone pale blue, and teeth rattling from the cold. Six-year old Dean had been wiggling the tooth in secret for weeks. He was trying to keep Sam from squirming out of the warm blanket bundle, and the damn tooth popped right of his mouth. He didn’t even realize it until he woke up tonguing the empty hole first thing in the morning. He told John, and no matter how hard they looked, neither of them could find the small tooth. 

Dean lost his virginity in the back seat when he was twelve years old. He never even bothered to find out the name of the girl. She was sixteen, staying with her parents in a motel room next to the Winchester’s one night. She told Dean they were on a trip down south while school was out on summer vacation. He didn’t tell her, but the Winchesters were tracking a black dog across state lines somewhere in Tennessee. Dean tasted like whiskey, a flavor she couldn’t place it at the time. She smelled like sugar cookies all over, except for the cherry chapstick kisses she left all along Dean’s pale, adolescent body. She rode him hard, bathed in moonlight, the humidity making her long blond hair stick to their skin wherever it touched. She called out her boyfriend’s name when she came, but Dean didn’t even notice. 

Sam lost his virginity in that very same backseat, four years later, almost to the day. In the parking lot of a no-tell motel in Poughkeepsie, New York. The night was gloomy with clouds, giving them just enough light to see each other. The dark washed most of the green out of Dean’s eyes, as he peered up from between his younger brother’s legs and slipped Sam’s leaking cock past his plush lips. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head like he was possessed, and he cried out Dean’s name loud enough to make Dean worry that John may hear them if he happened to be awake. He slipped two fingers into Sam’s mouth to hush him and told him to suck. Dean used those same spit-slicked fingers to open Sam up so he could take Dean’s cock. Sam rode him hard—harder than that nameless girl from Dean’s past, and infinitely more beautiful. He called out Dean’s name when he came, so Dean had to cover his mouth to keep him quiet. 

When Dean entered his late teens, he began pushing John to let he and Sam go on hunts by themselves. John knew both his boys could handle themselves on a hunt, but he was still reticent, because they were still  _ boys  _ to him, and he worried about them. Dean pushed, and cajoled for weeks until—after a lecture from Bobby, about trusting that the boys were capable of going on  _ small  _ hunts on their own--John reluctantly caved. With worried eyes, he handed over the Impala’s keys to Dean, and moved all of his gear to his old, rusty, reliable pickup truck. 

Once the boys were able to go out alone, they quickly grew drunk with this radical new kind of freedom. John only sent them on small hunts. They involved more research than danger--routine salt-and-burns; run down a wendigo; put down a ghoul--nothing two baby hunters couldn’t handle. John and Bobby had both made them promise to keep in touch, especially if things went pear-shaped. 

That kind of unimpeded freedom was a heady new change in their lives. They didn’t have to be on the lookout for John every time they touched. They could fuck anywhere they wanted, and be as loud as they needed. Fucking Sam in the shower until he screams Dean’s name so loud that the next room bangs on the wall and shouts at them to shut the fuck up. Dean on his knees in a diner restroom in a little hellhole town in west Texas. The younger boy leaning against a stall door covered with clever quips like,  _ for a good time call Candy Davis _ ; and _Trevor_ _ has crabs _ ; and  _ roses are tits, violets are tits, I love tits, tits, tits, tits _ . After Sam busts a nut in Dean’s talented mouth, and kisses the come out of his Dean’s mouth into his, Dean fake pouts and says, “Do you think I’m as good at sucking cock as Candy Davis is?” Sam punches his shoulder and tells him to  _ shuddup _ . 

Nevertheless, even with all this new freedom, Dean’s favorite place to fuck is the Impala. Any time he finds a deserted back road, he pulls off the shoulder, kills the engine, slides the seat back, and pulls Sam into his lap. Sam straddles him, already hard in his hand-me-down jeans. He grinds against Dean’s legs, moaning into his mouth. 

Chuckling, Dean purrs, “That’s my slutty boy. Yeah, Sammy. My little slut, rubbing his slutty little cock all over my dick. I bet you want to be fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

Whining, Sam replies, “Yes. Please, Dee.” 

Dean draws Sam’s face down to his, and whispers, “Tell me what you want. Be specific, slutty boy, and I’ll do whatever you want.” He pushes Sam's chin up and starts sucking little hickeys into his tan skin. 

“Jesus, Dean. Just fuck me. Please. Want your cock.” 

Dean pulls off of Sam’s neck and makes a  _ tsk-tsk _ sound. “No, no, baby. Tell me. I wanna hear it. Tell me. Say it, and I’ll do it. I swear.” 

There’s a few beats when Sam’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Dean sucks on his Adam's apple, then works his way around Sam’s jaw, his sparse, adolescent scruff chafing and burning Dean’s lips. Sam swallows audibly, then croaks, “Dean...” 

“Yes, baby?” 

“Can you... can you take my shirt off... please?” Tentative and blushing, even though his cock is rock hard and leaking precome inside of his jeans. When Dean slowly draws Sam's faded tee-shirt over his head, his dick blurts out more slick, and he’s so fucking hard it hurts. 

He moves his hands down to his belt and starts to open his pants to free his crowded cock, but Dean bats his hands away. “Nah, nah, nah, baby boy.  _ Me _ .  _ You  _ tell  _ me  _ what to do.” 

“Ah. Uhmm. ‘Kay,” he pants, “open my pants. Take my dick out.” Then Dean thumbs open Sam’s jeans and his cock springs free, he heaves a relieved breath. “Jack it, Dee. Jerk me off.” 

Dean groans, and palms his cock through his jeans. “ _ Christ _ , baby boy. You got a fucking  _ mouth  _ on you.” He runs a thumb up the sensitive underside of Sam’s dick, collecting the clear precome that’s dripping everywhere. He looks up at Sam, and pops his finger into his mouth with a hum. “Taste so good, Sammy.” 

He wraps his elegantly long fingers around Sam, grip loose, and lazily jacks his hand up and down. His eyes are like spring-green glass when he looks at Sam, a look that says,  _ tell me _ . 

“Yeah. Uh. Tighter. Harder.” He wraps his hand around Dean’s, squeezing it tight around himself until he groans and juices out a little precome on his brother’s fist. He lets go of Dean’s hand, and Dean starts stroking him again, twisting his fist at the top of every stroke, just like Sam likes, milking more boyjuice out of his flushed little slit. 

Sam’s thighs start to shake, and Dean knows he’s close. He looks up at Sam with color on his cheeks that make his freckles pop, and spit-slick lips that are extra plump where he’s been biting them while he watches Sam come apart for him. He’s a little breathless when he tells Sam not to come now. “Want to feel you come on my cock, slutty boy.” It’s an order, even though he told Sam to call the shots. Dean’s always in charge, even when he isn’t. 

“Dean,” he gasps, squeezing Dean’s hand, which is still slowly pumping his cock. He squeezes tight with a gasp. He would love to come in Dean’s hand, or his mouth, but he’d much rather come on Dean’s cock, so he squeezes with Dean’s hand, until his breaths don’t tremble, and the urge subsides. 

Dean pulls Sam’s mouth down to his and fucks his tongue into his mouth. He pulls away to rasp at Sam, “Yeah, Sammy. Such a good boy. My  _ slutty  _ boy is the  _ best  _ boy.” Dean’s praise makes Sam leak all over the front of his brother’s jeans. “What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want.” 

“Shit,” Sam breathes out a curse. It’s hard to think straight speared by Dean’s verdant green eyes. “Help me get these clothes off.” It’s a bit of a struggle, since Sam refuses to give up his perch on Dean’s lap, but they eventually have him stripped bare. Dean blinks up at him, his eyes say,  _ what next _ . “Can you... Will you...” he takes a shuddering breath and mentally tells himself to get his shit together. “Your fingers. Want your fingers inside of me.” 

With an indulgent smirk, Dean pushes two fingers into Sam’s mouth. He strokes over Sam’s tongue, pushing back, hunting for Sam’s gag reflex. When he finds it, he fucks his fingers against it until Sam gags wetly. Sam tries to pull Dean’s hand out of his mouth, but Dean won’t let him, until he pulls another retch out of Sam’s throat. 

“ ’S not what I meant, Dee,” he coughs. 

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, I recall telling you to be specific. So. Be specific, slutty boy.” 

“ _ God _ , Dean,” he croaks. “My ass. I want your fingers in my ass.” 

Dean helps Sam turn around, so his knees are still straddling Dean, but he’s bent over the steering wheel. He drapes his forearms over the wheel and rests his head on the dash so he can arch his back and pop his narrow little ass up for Dean. 

“Yeah, Sammy. That’s it. Get it in the air for me, baby.” His index and middle fingers are still wet with this spit from Sam’s throat, so he presses them into Sam, humming appreciatively when they slip in without resistance. “Slutty boy,” Dean scolds, “Your ass is still loose from being fucked this morning. Your slutty hole is always ready for my cock, isn’t it?” 

Sam starts fucking himself back onto Dean’s fingers, nodding his shaggy head in response. Dean croons, “Come on. That’s it, baby. Fuck my fingers.” He slips his ring finger in next to the others, making Sam groan low. “Shit. You look so good right now. Your little hole, gobbling up my fingers. ‘S gonna feel so good when I get my cock in there.” 

Dean slips his fingers out of Sam, and before the younger boy can whine, Dean’s hooked index fingers into Sam’s hole, pulling open his little gape so Dean can hawk a mouthful of spit inside of him. He chases it with four fingers, making Sam keen, and clench around the insistent push-pull of Dean’s thick fingers. 

“God, Dean. Go faster,” Sam begs. 

To his everlasting credit, Dean doesn’t tease him this time. He simply loads those fingers into Sam’s ass and starts finger-fucking his kid brother with purpose. 

Both boys are breathless, cursing quietly, each for different reasons. Dean’s forehead is beaded with sweat, but Sam is drenched with it. His hair bounces in wet clumps, rives of sweat make tracks along his tan skin, and he’s so fucking beautiful Dean could almost come just from this. But he really wants Sam wrapped around his dick when he nuts. 

So he moves his fingers just a little, so they’re rubbing over Sam’s prostate with every in-out bounce. Sam keens, wailing Dean’s name with a delicious kind of agony. “Don’t make me. Dee, don’t make me come like this. Wanna come on your cock,” he sobs. 

With god-like mercy (so Sam thinks, anyway), Dean doesn’t take his fingers out of Sam, but he does press his palm against one of Sam’s little ass cheeks to arrest his movement. “Slutty boy,” Dean chides, and Sam can hear him fucking smirking. “You almost came from just having my fingers in your slutty pussy. I’m gonna take my fingers out now. Are you gonna come?” 

Sam has to huff in a few breaths before he answers, “I’m okay, Dee. ‘S okay.” He groans with relief when the fingers withdraw and he  _ doesn’t _ come. Dean would certainly forgive him, but he really wants to come while his big brother breeds him, right here, in the middle of the day, on the side of some sunny road on the outskirts of Iowa with cars passing every few minutes. 

Sam hears Dean’s belt buckle tinkle as he opens his pants. Dean groans out a curse when his cock springs free. Sam looks behind him and Dean’s dick is huge, and fat, and red from being crushed behind his zipper for so long. Dean gives it a couple of relieved pumps, milking fat drops of precome out of his slit with every stroke. It makes Sam’s mouth water. 

Dean catches him looking, and drags a thumb through the precome and pops it into Sam’s mouth. Sam’s eyes flutter shut and he hums around Dean’s finger. “That’s my good boy,” Dean’s praise makes goosebumps tingle all over his skin, and his cock drip more boy juice all over Dean’s steering wheel. 

“Lemme suck your cock, Dee,” and he’s all pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. Dean chuckles and shakes his head. 

“That’s a very nice offer, and any other time I’d be happy to fuck your slutty little throat, but right now, I just wanna get my big, thick cock right about here...” he presses his hand against Sam’s belly button, making the younger boy swear quietly. 

Tired of being patient, Dean pushes his jeans down around his calves, then he uses both hands to scoop Sam up by his thighs, and spread his legs wide. He whispers into Sam’s ear with a voice full of gravel, “Come on, baby. Slip me into that tight pussy and I’ll make you feel so fucking good.” 

Dean holds him in the air like that, legs spread wide, until Sam can get the head of Dean's cock to catch on his rim. Then Dean lowers him down until he bottoms out, then he props Sam’s feet up on the dashboard, so they’re out of his way. Sam’s cunt is already making wet noises when he squirms. He clutches Sam’s narrow hips tight enough to leave bruises they can play with in the morning. 

He draws slowly out of Sam with a guttural groan. “ _ Fuuuck, fuckfuckfuck _ . God fucking damnit, Sammy, you feel so good. So tight and hot. So fucking wet.” He drives back in and starts to fuck Sam hard, picking up speed, rocking his hips and snapping them upwards, to make Sam’s little ass bounce up and down. 

Sam’s head falls back on his shoulder, and he exhaustedly asks, “Dean, I wanna come, can I please?” 

Dean’s the one sweating now, it soaks the front of his t-shirt, and tickles the downy hair on the back of his neck. It takes all the restraint he can muster to not pound into Sam relentlessly. So, he’s very generous when he nods, “Yeah, baby. Go ahead and make yourself come. You did so good for me, Sammy.” 

The praise makes Sam preen a little. Praise from Dean always does, no matter what it’s for. But Sam’s still very grateful to get his hand around his cock. With Dean filling him up, and the underside of his big brother’s dick slip-sliding over his sweet spot, it only takes a few tugs until he spills hot cream all over Baby’s pretty black leather seats. 

The  _ clenchreleaseclench  _ of Sam’s ass when he comes is almost Dean’s undoing. He isn’t ready to blow his load yet, with Sam loose and boneless in his lap. He reaches around Sam to run calloused fingertips over Sam’s puffy, abused rim. It’s sensitive, and circling it pulls a tortured groan out of Sam, his cock chubbing up again. Dean chuckles and forces two fingers in next to his dick. Sam wails Dean’s name and comes again, without a hand on his prick to help, painting the black leather with even more dripping white. 

“Shit,” Dean curses low, his voice strained. “Yeah. Oh fuck yeah.” He starts fucking Sam hard, with his fingers and his dick. His hips stutter through a few more thrusts, and he holds Sam down tight, so he can bury himself deep, and comes with a litany of curses. Sam groans and comes dry one last time when Dean’s dick swells and jumps, filling him up and squelching out where Dean’s fingers are still working his hole. 

Sam goes limp against Dean, like Dean found his off switch, which, Dean supposes, he had. He lays Sam out on the seat next to him, and uses Sam’s discarded boxers to clean them both up, and slips their pants back on. 

Sam’s lights are truly out. Even with all the jostling, Dean’s thirty minutes over the Illinois border when Sam’s eyes finally flutter open. He’s snugged into his brother’s armpit, Dean’s strong arm wrapped around him, holding him tight. Sam squirms even closer, and lets his eyes fall shut again, lulled to sleep by the sound of Baby accelerating, while Dean sings along with the Led Zeppelin that plays quietly in the background. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put two wild Winchester boys together in a nice hotel room, and things get dirty and fun, real fast. AKA: you literally cannot take these two anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags are updated. Please read them.

Dean is an enterprising man when it comes to raising money. John taught him very well. He could hustle pool or cheat at poker with the best of them, and the credit card fraud is just extra icing on the cake. 

Sometimes while they were away on a hunt without John, Dean got the urge to spoil his boy. He kept a fat wad of rolled-up bills wrapped in a sock in the bottom of his duffel. It was his. He’d never give it up to John when times were slim, or use it to buy Baby new spark plugs, or even when they’d been eating bologna sandwiches for days, and an IHOP commercial on TV made his mouth water for bacon. This money was special; earmarked for one purpose only. 

When Dean rolls up to some swanky-to-a-Winchester, 3-star hotel, Sam’s eyes go all soft and grateful. He trails behind Dean as his brother swaggers up to the check-in counter like some big dick, high roller. Smiling at the check-in girl is just a habit for Dean, and the girl’s practically wetting her panties over Sam’s big brother. Then Dean slings an arm around him, and pulls him possessively close, making Sam’s heart pitter-pat in his scrawny chest. Dean wedges him in under his arm good and tight. Watching desk-girl’s face fall with disappointment makes Sam’s dick leak in his jean shorts. 

_ That’s right, bitch,  _ Sam thinks, _ he’s mine, so fuck off, skank. _

Then, in the elevator, before the doors close, Dean tosses a smile and a cocky wink at the gushy desk whore, as Sam sinks to his knees in front of Dean, unbuckling his big brother’s jeans so he can pull his dick out as the doors ding shut. 

In the rooms, even though they try to play it cool, they are both infatuated with the delicious-smelling soaps, fluffy down comforters, and clean white sheets (that aren’t stained in the slightest, and only smell of fresh, floral detergent, instead of bleach). Dean drags them both into the shower, which always has both hot water  _ and  _ great water pressure. He uses every scented soap on Sam, slowly washing him from head to toe, inside and out, until they’re both pruny and smell good enough to eat. 

This particular hotel is situated next to a huge lake. Dean helps Sam out of the shower and leaves him to his post-shower ritual, and goes to stand in front of the picture window. He doesn’t bother with clothes, letting the bright Colorado sunshine warm his pale, freckle-dusted skin. Beautiful scenery like this always makes Dean a little melancholy. He thinks of what it would be like if he and Sam had been regular kids. He imagines pulling Sam out of school so they can go fishing on a lake like this; the sun making the water sparkle like diamonds, and Sammy’s eyes shift color, bright flecks of honeyed gold, mossy green, and sky blue. The way he’d smile big every time they caught a fish. His dimples like a drug to Dean; he’d do absolutely anything to see them. 

The smell of his baby brother shakes him out of his reverie a moment before Sam’s waifish arms wrap around his waist, his shaggy head ducks under Dean’s arm until it settles around his shoulders. “What’s wrong, Dee?” he asks. 

Dean breathes deep through his nose, and steps in front of Sam, blocking the lake view. He leans against the window, and pulls Sam close. The sun shining in the window makes Sam’s eyes look like stained glass. He runs a hand along Sam’s jaw, and pulls his brother close, and kisses him deep and tender. Sam sighs breathily and melts into Dean’s arms. 

Sam presses his naked body against Dean, and deepens their kiss. Dean explores Sam’s body, grazing here, pinching there, he gobbles up all the soft, breathy noises his brother makes. Dean opens his eyes to see Sam as they kiss, and to his surprise, he sees they’re standing in front of a big, floor-to-ceiling mirror. He gasps, and Sam pulls away with a quizzical look. 

Dean grins and turns Sam around in his arms. This,” he explains. He swipes his hands over Sam’s broadening shoulders, and runs them down his sides. Sam squirms, making Dean wrap a strong arm around his middle and pull him tight against his front. He drops his head to suck a mark into Sam’s neck. His other hand slides up to Sam’s chest, swirling the calloused pad of his thumb over Sam’s nipple, rubbing and tweaking until the bud of flesh stands in a hard peak. By the time he repeats the process with the other nipple Sam’s cheeks are flushed, and his dick stands at attention. 

Dean looks up at Sam in the mirror and swears quietly. “Shit, Sammy. You’re so beautiful.” 

Sam blushes, and looks down at the floor, his hair hanging over his eyes like a curtain. “Dean...” he whispers. 

Firmly, Dean uses his index finger under Sam’s chin to bring his face up. He _tsks_, and asserts, “No. Look. You’re so beautiful it hurts. All this long hair,” he cards his fingers into Sam’s hair and tugs on it lightly, “so shiny and soft. I love holding onto your hair when you’re sucking my cock. You listen so good for me, baby.” He brushes a hand down Sam’s torso, “All this tan skin, miles and miles of it to kiss, and bite, and lick, and suck.” A shudder runs down Sam’s spine when Dean brushes over his favorite places to kiss, bite, and lick. He wraps his long fingers around Sam’s cock, and give it a stroke, root to tip. “And, baby, this cock. Damn,” he hums appreciatively and a string of precome slips out of his slit when Dean milks him. “Your cock is the only cock on the planet I love more than mine. And all of it belongs to me.  _ Mine _ .” 

“Shit, Dean.” His head falls back onto Sam’s shoulder and his eyes flutter shut while Dean jacks his dick a few times in silence. 

“I don’t know how you can think you’re anything less than the most beautiful creature that’s ever existed,” Dean muses. “Because, baby, I can’t think of anyone, anywhere, that I’d rather be with right now.” Dean knew it was sappy, but he was feeling a little mercurial today. It made his heart ache that he couldn’t give Sam a better life. Those thoughts are a scab he doesn’t want to pick at too much, so he releases Sam, guiding him forward half a step so he can step around him. 

Sam’s cheeks are pink, and his eyes swim behind unshed tears. Dean kisses him again, grasping Sam’s face between his palms. It’s possessive and demanding, and leaves them both breathless when they pull away. 

“Sammy,” Dean whispers against his brother’s lips. He sinks to his knees in front of Sam, looking up at him, eyes soft, and full of a dizzying array of greens, “please,” he asks breathlessly. 

Sam swallows with an audible click when Dean’s mouth falls open for him. “God, Dean,” his voice is breathy and reverent. Sam is just as dazzled by Dean’s beauty as Dean is of his. He rubs a hand over the rough scruff that covers Dean’s strong jaw, and Dean rubs his face into Sam’s palm. 

He blinks up at Sam, and again opens his mouth. Sam slips two fingers into Dean’s mouth. Dean closes his lips around Sam’s fingers and swipes over his fingertips with his tongue. Sam withdraws his fingers, loving the way Dean’s plump lips look wrapped around them. He rubs his thumb against his pouty lower lip, and Dean sucks at it too. A half step closer, and brings the head of his cock close enough to Dean’s mouth for Dean to chase after it. Of course, Sam lets him catch it. 

Dean’s plush lips look even better stretched over Sam’s cock. Dean is subdued, looking up at Sam with lust-filled eyes, but pliantly waiting for Sam to use his mouth. His tongue traces the ridge of Sam’s cock head, and wiggles into his slit, but he doesn’t move other than that. 

Sam pushes tentatively into his mouth and groans loud when Dean’s tongue traces down his shaft and around the base of his cock when he pushes past Dean’s gag reflex. Dean hums his encouragement, and between his dick in Dean’s throat, and Dean’s lips on Sam’s pubic bone, the vibrations go right to his balls. “Yeah, Dean. ‘S so good. Fuck.” Dean’s lips don’t budge, but Sam can see the smile in his eyes. 

Sam pulls out slowly, letting Dean’s tongue drag along the sensitive underside of his dick. He doesn’t pull out all the way, leaving the head of his cock resting on Dean’s tongue, where his brother can kitten lick at the tip, and savor the precome that drizzles from the tip. 

Dean brings his hands up to rest on Sam’s narrow hips, urging Sam to use his mouth, to let him make Sam feel good. It’s all there, written in Dean’s eyes, and his demeanor. The need written in Dean’s naked gaze makes his dick leak. 

Sam brings his hands up, and drags them through Dean’s hair, tightening his fingers so he pulls at the short strands as he rakes through it. Slowly he pushes his cock into Dean’s mouth, dragging it out again faster than he had before. He cups one hand around the base of Dean’s skull, to hold his brother’s head where he wants it so he could fuck Dean’s mouth in earnest. 

Dean relishes giving control over to Sam for awhile. When Sam finally gets going, Dean flattens his tongue and relaxes his throat, so Sam can fuck him good and deep. Ever since Dean’s age hit double-digits he’d been told he had cock-sucking lips. They had no idea just how goddamn right they were. 

After a few minutes of this, Dean squeezes Sam’s hips and pulls off of his dick. He licks his lips with a dramatic smacking noise. “Yanno, Sammy. You’re not gonna break me. Come on.” 

Sam nods, and licks his lips slowly. He nods and returns his hands to Dean’s hair, this time fisting it in his hands, pulling , drawing an appreciative hiss from Dean. “Yeah, baby. That's it. Don’t be shy.” 

It’s all the encouragement Sam needs. As soon as Dean’s mouth pops open again, Sam plunges deep down in Dean’s throat. He gives a few short thrusts before drawing all the way out and plunging back in. He unwinds one of his hands from Dean’s hair, and hooks his thumb into Dean’s mouth to keep it open wide so he can fuck Dean’s throat in earnest now. 

It doesn’t take long for the constant stimulation of his gag reflex to make Dean’s eyes start to water and nose run. Sam thinks he looks gloriously vulgar like this, but he can’t say anything but  _ fuckthatssofuckinggooddean  _ over and over. 

Dean again squeezes Sam’s hip to arrest his momentum so he can draw off of Sam’s cock. A thick string of spit and precome clings to Dean’s lower lip, stretching all the way to the head of Sam’s cock. His voice is gravel rough when he tells Sam, “Stop fucking around, Sammy. Make me choke on it.” Sam groans loudly. Dean swats his hip, “Act like you’ve done this before. Shit.” 

_ Nice Dean, _ Sam thinks,  _ antagonize me.  _ What he  _ actually  _ says (as flippantly as possible, he  _ is  _ a little brother after all) is, “Sure, Dean.” The he takes a half step forward so he can really get his dick into Dean, and buries himself in Dean’s throat. He fucks his brother hard, and as unrelenting as Dean seems to want him to be. He only pulls out enough for Dean to suck in a quick sip of air every few strokes. The tight heat of Dean’s throat feels so fucking good, so he pulls Dean in, and holds him all the way on his cock, so Dean’s nose is buried in the dark nest of his pubes. Dean tries to pull away after a few moments, but Sam holds him tight. Then Dean starts to fight a bit more fervently, but Sam still won’t budge. 

Dean gags around his length, and it feels... amazing. “Yeah, Dean,” he breathily orders, “Gag for me. Do it some more and I’ll let you go.  _ Please _ . Feels so fucking good.” Dean’s only response is a choked, wet retching noise, which makes Sam curse again. 

Bile burns in Dean’s nostrils by the time Sam lets him pull away. His first breath sounds wet and painful, and ends with Dean coughing out a foamy puddle of saliva, snot, bile, and precome onto the motel carpet. When he can breathe without heaving, he turns lust-blown eyes up to Sam. “You,” is the only word he says, but his voice is so rough and wet he  _ snarls  _ it. He hurls himself at Sam, planting his shoulder in Sam’s stomach, grabbing Sam’s thighs in his big hands. 

Sam squawks with indignation, and pinwheels his arms, waiting for the inevitable crash to the floor. The don’t hit the floor though. Instead Sam lands on a cloud of puffy while pillows and blankets with a soft  _ fwump _ . He barely has a second to blink before Dean’s lips are wrapped around his dick. He sucks Sam’s cock down like he’s being paid to do it, making pornographic noises that make it really hard for Sam to focus on not blowing his load all over Dean. 

Then Dean starts milking his dick, and pulling off to lick the sensitive spot under the glans, and whispering, “Yeah. Come on, baby. Come on my face. I can’t wait to get my cock in you, so come on baby. Give it to me.” 

Between Dean’s hand and his mouth, it isn’t long before Sam’s orgasm burns through him, and he’s splashing come all over Dean’s gorgeous face, and into his open mouth. It’s messy, and wonderful, even after Dean starts licking and sucking his oversensitive dick as it softens. But he has Sam’s load smeared all over his cheek, and it’s messy and sexy, and better than any wet dream Sam’s ever had. 

Dean doesn’t stop cleaning Sam until the younger boy is shuddering, and whining, and begging Dean to stop. 

“Baby boy,” Dean’s tone is soothing, but his voice is gravelly and wrecked. “I wanna get in that ass, baby. Give it.” 

Sam gets up on his knees, ass in the air, and Dean rearranges him until they can both see themselves in the ginormous mirror. Dean runs a rough palm up Sam’s thigh, and grins at their reflections. “Mmm. Fucking hot,” is all he says before thumbing aside Sam’s ass cheeks, and diving in face first. 

Sam’s ass is so well trained, that it only takes a few minutes of finger fucking to open him up. Dean still enjoys playing though, even after the utility part is over. He loves to get his fingers inside of Sam, using them to pull Sam open so he can lick into as many of Sam’s nooks and crannies as the length of his tongue will allow. 

By the time Dean’s got three fingers in him, Sam’s begging to be fucked, but Dean is perfectly happy to take his sweet time. Then he’s four fingers deep in Sam’s guts and this time he’s begging for something different. 

“Dean,” he whines, like he’s engulfed in a sweet kind of agony. Dean’s green eyes shift to his in the mirror, with half his hand in Sam’s ass it’s all the attention he can spare. “Will you... I mean, can you...” 

“Sammy your ass isn’t going to eat itself. Time’s a-wastin’. Spit it out.” 

“Dammit, Dean,” annoyed at the way his brother makes everything harder to say. “Would you fist me? Please. Shit.” 

Sam counts three whole Mississippi's where Dean’s face stays completely blank. Then his eyelashes flutter and he says, “Say what now?” 

Internally, Sam is amused that he shut Dean down for that long. Out loud he repeats himself, but slower. “Will you. Dean. Fist me?” 

Dean looks at the four fingers he’s already got threaded into Sam’s hole, and back at Sam. “Really?” Dean says it like someone offered him a fourth helping of cherry pie. “I, uh, you really want me to?” 

Sam nods his scruffy head, and then Dean’s fingers are gone, and so is Dean. His brother is rooting around in his duffel until he finds the bottle of lube they keep there. 

Without any further comments, Dean keels on the bed and starts fingering lube into Sam’s hole, drizzling in in between his fingers, until Sam is slicked up, and writhing under his touch. Dean watches the push-pull of Sam’s rim as he slowly fucks four fingers in and out. He uses his thumb to swipe over Sam’s taint. He tries not to think about how small Sam is, or how huge his fist is, but he’s Dean, and it’s in his nature to worry. Especially about Sam. And this seems like a big line to cross.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, almost to himself. 

“What, Dee?” 

He finds Sam’s eyes in the mirror. “Tell me to stop.” 

Sam stares, and shakes his head. 

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me to stop.” 

“I won’t, Dee. Please. I want it,” he presses back onto Dean’s fingers, and groans loud when they brush against his prostate. 

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean mumbles. “You really...?” He leaves the question hanging in the air for Sam. 

“I do, Dee. Please. Just do it.” 

Dean nods as if the matter is settled, and Sam shudders at the lust coiling in his gut, making his cock hard and leaky. 

Sam reckons there’s enough lube in him to glaze a fucking ham, but, ever vigilant for Sam’s well-being, Dean adds a little more. Dean’s worry about Sam now satisfied, he wastes no more time on questions. He folds his thumb into his palm, and slips his hand past Sam’s rim. They both swear quietly when Sam’s ass closes around Dean’s wrist. 

"Holy fuck, baby. That’s it. That’s my hand inside of you. Shit, Sam. You’re so fucking hot.” He grinds the palm of his other hand into his cock, which is so hard it fucking aches to be inside of Sam. 

Sam’s eyes are rolled back in his head, and he breathes heavily. “God, Dee. Feel so full. Fuck me, please. Move.  _ Shit _ .” 

Dean gently smooths a hand over Sam’s flank. He’s making soft soothing noises, and rubbing at Sam’s trembling muscles until he’s relaxed a little more. 

“Okay, baby,” he purrs at Sam, “Here we go.” 

He untucks his thumb and balls his big hand into a fist.  _ Great for punching monsters  _ and _ fucking brothers _ , Dean thinks with an amused snort. 

He pulls back until Sam’s ass opens wide and Dean can peek at the meaty fist lodged in his brother’s guts, and he thrusts forward. He drives farther and farther with each pull out and drag in. Pretty soon both brothers are sheened with sweat, Sam is mewling and writhing on the bed, and Dean is watching Sam’s rim eat almost half his forearm. 

“Oh god,” Sam’s voice is choked, “Dee, look.” 

Dean stills immediately, worried he’s hurt Sam, but Sam nods toward the mirror. Dean follows his gaze, and watches Sam rub his tummy. Dean can feel the movement faintly, a light flutter against the fist that’s deep in his brother. He moves his hand, just slightly. In the mirror he sees a corresponding bulge in Sam’s belly. 

“God fucking damn, Sammy,” he hisses. “Is that...?” 

Sam presses harder on the bulge, and Dean feels the flutter firm to a solid rub. “Oh _fuck,_” he swears quietly. “Christ, Sammy. You are so fucking _hot _right now. Wanna fuck you baby, but your pussy feels so good on my fist, so tight and hot. Damn.” 

Dean really can’t wait to get his dick in Sam, but he can’t stop watching Sam’s little waifish belly bulge with his fist. Each time it does, Sam gives a dreamy little sigh and drools out a little more precome on the fluffy, white bed. 

Dean circles Sam’s rim with the fingers of his free hand, making Sam whine underneath him. He finally, reluctantly, works his fist out of his brother. He uses two fingers on each hand to open Sam’s baby gape so Dean can get a good look at all the slick pink and red sweetness hidden inside of his baby brother. 

“Damn Sammy. Gonna film this someday, so you can see how pretty your pussy looks when it’s on my fist, and how fucking wrecked it is after.” 

He sits, and pulls Sam onto his lap, slipping his fat cock into Sam in the process. Dean groans as the wet heat surrounds him. Sam keens at the way Dean feels against all his super-sensitized insides. 

Dean rakes a hand over Sam’s chest, and wraps it around Sam’s throat. “ _ Mine _ ,” he growls, squeezing tight. 

Sam nods, eyes wide and watery. 

“ _ Mine _ .” 

Dean drills into him, holding his throat until Sam taps his leg to remind Dean that he needs to breathe, at least a little. Dean drops his hand to Sam’s cock, stroking, squeezing; milking precome out of his slit with every stroke. 

Suddenly he stands, lifting Sam with him. He sets Sam gingerly on the ground, Sam’s coltish legs unsteady and wobbly underneath him. Dean pushes his upper body down, leaning him against the wall so Dean can thumb his cock back into Sam’s wrecked hole.

Sam is wobbly and weak, and it’s all he can do to cling to the wall when Dean starts fucking him again. He’s soaked with sweat, utterly exhausted, and dying to come. He’s too dick drunk to beg Dean for a hand on his cock so he can get off, so he just presses against the wall as best as he can, trying not to collapse. 

Dean is grunting and cursing with exertion, and praising Sam like he hung the sun and moon. “Shit, baby,” Dean growls, “You wanna come, Sammy? Need a hand?”

All Sam can do is nod, his shaggy mop of hair shrouding his face. Dean leans over him, pressing his chest against Sam’s back, he reaches around and wraps his fingers around Sam’s cock with an overhand grip. He squeezes it hard before she starts jacking it, making Sam wail weakly. It only takes a dozen or so strokes for Sam to come. His vision whites out, and he hardly even feels the come that splatters hot on his feet and legs. 

Sam starts to slide down the wall, his front half going totally limp, and his back half only held up by Dean’s grip around his narrow hips. “Ahhh, no you don’t, baby,” Dean grits out. He grabs Sam’s arms, and holds them behind Sam, using them to keep the boy upright, suspended by only Dean’s tight grip on his arms. 

He pounds into Sam, feeling his impending orgasm coiling in his gut. Sam’s eyes flutter open, and the painful stretch of his arms bending backwards makes him groan. Dean’s pace is punishing, and he’s praising Sam between clenched teeth. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he growls. “Gonna come. Gonna fill you up. Fuck.” He pulls Sam tight against him and ruts into Sam while he comes hard. His cock pulsing inside of Sam so vigorously it makes Sam chant  _ fuckyesfuckyesfuckyes _ even though he’s hardly aware of his babbling.

Dean gently pulls out of Sam, hoisting the boy in his arms. He sets Sam on the bed in a soft, fluffy nest of pillows and blankets. He cleans himself up in the bathroom, also wetting a couple of washcloths. He gently wipes Sam down from head to toe, ridding him of the tacky sheen of sweat until he’s awake enough to join Dean in another shower. He gingerly cleans Sam’s hole, silently thinking how nice it would be to suck at that puffy, reddened skin until Sam was wide awake and begging him to stop. He does none of that though. Once Sam is as clean as Dean can get him with just a wet rag, Dean fluffs up the nest they’ve made on the bed. By the time he’s happy with it, and hops in next to his wrung-out brother, Sam is finally starting to stir.

“Dee. Hi,” he slurs his words, and they sound heavy on his tongue. “Mmmm. Thanks. ‘S good.”

“It sure was, Sammy. You did so good baby. So good for me.”

Sam hums his appreciation and snuggles next to his brother, tucked into his armpit, where he feels the safest. As Sam wiggles closer, Dean imagines a world for them both where they never have to be farther from each other than this. But Dean checked his phone before he dove into the blanket nest. John’s got a job for them in Arizona. Bobby and Rufus need a hand with a black dog hunt. John wants them there as soon as possible. Dean tries to give them as much time as he can in this happy little bubble they’ve created. In the end, he can only put John off for so long, ending the call with a promise that they’d be there within thirty-six hours.

So he pulls his sleeping brother closer, and wraps his arms around Sam. Silently cursing their life, but determined to claim the small victory of letting his brother get a good night’s sleep surrounded by all this indulgent luxury before they had to move along. 

Dean would always be grateful for these small victories.

**Author's Note:**

> No betas, we die like men.
> 
> Fic title is from The Stars (Are Out Tonight) by David Bowie


End file.
